Cavenaugh turned to his desk, filled out the blank, and passed it to his father, who, with scarcely a glance at it, passed it back with a negative shake of the head.
"The official certifying stamp lies on your desk; use it."
There was no getting around this keen-eyed old man. He knew every point in the game.
"You will live to regret this," said Cavenaugh, his eyes sparkling with venom.
"I have many things to regret; principally that fate made me a father." The old man passed the check over to Carrington. "You're a lawyer; does that look legal to you?"
Carrington signified that it did.
"Now, then, Henry, you will write down on official paper your resignation as president and director of the General Trust Company of America. You will give orders for the restitution of the millions that were fraudulently added to your capital. I am not the least interested in what manner the restitutions are made, so long as they are made. I am now representing the investors. As for your partners, it will be easy for you to impress them with the necessity of the action."
"And if I refuse?"
"Nothing less than the attorney-general. I intend to make this business as complete as possible."
Cavenaugh turned again to his desk. He knew his father even as his father knew him. He wrote hurriedly, the pen sputtering angrily.